What Spirit Governs
by Star-Stallion
Summary: Eighth in the Nilmé Series. An attempt to poison Thranduil goes wrong when Legolas gets in the way. Hallataulë sets out on a mission to find the plant that will save his little brother’s life, but danger lurks around every corner...
1. Bitterness

**Hey everyone:-) Back again I be...**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed 'Is This Goodbye?'; I really enjoyed reading all of your lovely comments:-)**

**For anyone new to the series; WELCOME:-) I'm very glad to have you here! You can start by reading this instalment if you want, or you can go back to the very beginning. Here are the previous stories in order in case you want to go back:**

**.: Hope and Greenleaf :.**

**.: An Inseparable Duo :.**

**.: Fight Your Fears :.**

**Woes of the World :.**

**.: Red Sun Rising :.**

**.: Through Hell and High Water :.**

**.: Is This Goodbye? :.**

**Just so you all know, I'm currently making an Aragorn & Legolas calendar for 2006 which you can get from my site Elf and Ranger (once it's done of course). Anyone who'd like a copy, simply go to the site (I'll write a Shout Out when it's done) and save it. ;-)**

**SO! Now on to the story I know many of you have been _dying_ to read... What Spirit Governs... this is Legolas-centric, so anyone looking for Aragorn here will be disappointed. Fear not though! The next story will be completely devoted to our wonderful Ranger!**

**This story will also provide some detective work for you to do. Keep an eye out for clues; this first chapter is FULL of them...**

.: Chapter One :.

The forest was silent. He could see but a few metres in front of him before the trees became too thick to see through, whilst somewhere above his head in the dense canopy a crow screeched loudly.

Something cracked in the undergrowth behind him. Legolas swallowed involuntarily.

"Hello?"

No answer. Still staring over his shoulder, his heart hammering, Legolas slowly withdrew an arrow from his quiver. Notching it to his bowstring, he pulled back and turned fully, now facing where the noise had come from.

"Show yourself!" he ordered loudly.

Still no answer.

Suddenly, something barrelled into him from behind, knocking him off his feet...

----

Sólia cleared her throat, attempting to catch her husband's attention. He ignored her, continuing to pour over the paperwork that lay on the table in front of him.

"Thranduil..."

"Mmmm?" He carried on reading, turning an old yellowing piece of parchment. Sólia rolled her eyes.

"_Thranduil_!"

Thranduil's head snapped up. "What? What!"

She tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. "Noticed something dear? Something, or should I say, _two_ things which ought to be here but are not?" She then proceeded to stare, glowering.

Thranduil shifted uneasily in his seat. "Erm..." He looked about the breakfast table, wondering what on earth was missing... "The salt and pepper?"

Something sounding suspiciously like a growl came from Sólia's throat. "No..." she said through gritted teeth. "A bit more important than the _salt and pepper_..."

Thranduil looked about again. 'Valar,' he thought desperately. 'What IS it! She'll kill me if I can't-'

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ARE SO OBLIVIOUS!"

Thranduil sighed. 'Too late,' he thought miserably.

"Do you recall how many people are in this family!" she shrieked.

"Well, there's you, me and-"

"Exactly!" Sólia interrupted. "AND! Where are they!"

"Who?" asked Thranduil innocently. It was simply too early in the morning for the Elven King – but he was suffering for it now.

"_The boys, Thranduil_!" hissed Sólia. "Where are our sons!"

It finally dawned on him; 'Ah, so THAT'S what's missing!' He thought for a moment. "My apologies melath-nin, but I have no idea."

Sólia blanched. "Oh Valar! If you don't know... and I don't know...! They could be anywhere! They could be lying, hurt somewhere, with nobody there to help them! Thranduil! We have to go now, we have to find them and-!"

The door swung open and the Royal Couple's eldest child, Hallataulë, wandered in.

"Morning," he said simply, helping himself to a piece of toast from his father's plate.

Sólia fell silent. Thranduil simply shook his head and returned to his paperwork.

"Hal, dearest, where is Legolas this morning?" enquired Sólia politely.

"Of course..." grumbled Thranduil under his breath. "Be polite to the _boy_. Never mind biting the head off of your _husband_..."

Hallataulë shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know; he was already gone when I woke up. I assumed he was here having breakfa-"

"I KNEW IT!"

Hallataulë jumped out of his skin as his mother yelled again. His piece of toast dropped from his hand, landing butter side down on the floor. "Knew what?"

Thranduil spoke softly, still not looking up from his papers. "Your mother is convinced that your brother is out in the wilds and getting into trouble again."

Hallataulë rolled his eyes. "Well, that wouldn't be surprising, would it?"

"She also said the same about you..."

"Me!"

Sólia interrupted the exchange. "Hal, get out there now and find him!"

"But my breakfast-"

"Never mind that!" she scolded. "What's more important? Your brother or your stomach!"

"Well actually, now that you mention it-" He cut off as soon as he saw the look Sólia was giving him. It was the look a cat gave a mouse before pouncing. He laughed nervously. "I-I'm kidding... I-I'll go... now..." He gave an awkward grin and rose from his seat quickly, leaving the dining hall at speed.

As soon as he got out of the door, Hallataulë scowled. 'I swear Legolas,' he thought to himself. 'If you've gone out looking for that blasted wolf of yours again, I swear...'

----

Legolas struggled under the weight of the creature now on top of him. He raised his hands, trying to push the animal's face away from his own.

"L-Louvel! Down boy! Off!" He laughed as Louvel licked his face again. "LOUVEL!"

The wolf backed off a little, allowing the young Elf enough room to sit up. Legolas ruffled Louvel's fur and grinned.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to run off in the middle of the night?" he asked, still stroking his adopted pet.

"I could say the same thing to you!" said a frustrated voice directly behind him. Legolas looked upwards and back to see his older brother standing over him, scowling.

"Oh. Morning Hal."

"Don't 'Morning' me, Legolas Greenleaf!" snapped Hallataulë. "I hope you realise Ama was worried sick about you!"

Legolas smirked. "It wouldn't surprise me. Why? Did you get it in the neck again because of little old me?"

Hallataulë suddenly hefted his brother up off the floor. "YES."

Legolas' grin faded. "... oh..."

"Yes, 'oh'! Legolas, in all seriousness; you've got to stop sneaking out at night! This is the third time this month!"

Legolas stared at his feet. "Louvel keeps running away-" he began.

"Then _stop_ him from running away!" said Hallataulë. "Tie him up or something!"

"You can't do that!" protested Legolas. "Louvel is a wolf - a free spirit! You can't tie him up!"

Hallataulë sneered. "You _can_ if that free spirit insists on running away constantly." He sighed. "Well, it's up to you I guess. After all, he is your dog-"

"Wolf," said Legolas quickly.

Hallataulë paused. "Pardon?"

"You said 'dog'. Louvel is a _wolf_." explained Legolas.

"Wolf, dog; they're both the same thing! Furry with sharp teeth and tails!"

"So are cats."

Hallataulë shook his head. "No, cats don't have sharp teeth."

"They do!" said Legolas.

Hallataulë suddenly fell silent. Legolas smiled knowingly; this meant his brother couldn't think of a decent comeback.

"I'm sure you owe me a sparring match by the way."

Legolas' face fell. Hallataulë had suddenly remembered.

It was true; Legolas had gotten out of a meeting by saying he was going out on a pre-arranged outing with friends. Their parents had believed it, even though Hallataulë knew for certain it wasn't true. Legolas didn't have many friends in Mirkwood, and the very few he _did_ have had been away that day on an army training course. However, the pair had struck a deal that Hallataulë would keep his mouth shut, purely for his younger brother's sake. If Thranduil and Sólia knew about the way many of the other young Elves treated their youngest... well, let's say that heads would certainly roll. The sparring match was Legolas' part of the agreement; one mock fight in return for Hal's unbroken silence over the secret.

"O-ok... sparring match then!" Legolas tried to grin.

Hallataulë laughed and winked. "Hey... don't look so nervous!"

----

Hallataulë made a stabbing motion with his sword, barely stopping the sharp blade mere inches from his younger brother's abdomen.

"Got you," he said simply. "Now don't move and told me what you did wrong."

Legolas looked about him, at his own twin daggers in his hands and at his brother's stance. "I don't know," he confessed.

Hallataulë rolled his eyes and grabbed Legolas' wrist, pulling his hand and knife across into a defensive position. "You left your middle open... _again_." The older Elf scowled. "You've got to stop that!"

"I can't help it!" protested Legolas indignantly. His brother scoffed.

"Legolas, you _have_ to help it! Your enemy is going to take every opportunity to hurt and kill you. If you're out in a battle situation and leave your midsection unguarded like that, it's like handing them your death on a silver platter; _they will take it_. Unlike me, an Orc won't stop it's sword before it runs you through."

Legolas fell silent, but Hallataulë noticed the slight reddening of his cheeks. Softening his tone, he added; "You've got to trust me on this one Legolas. Believe me, I know... from painful personal experience."

"Don't give me that!" scoffed Legolas. "Honestly Hal; you're so dramatic..."

Hallataulë raised an eyebrow. "Oh, getting cocky now are we!" He quickly swung his sword upwards and round, stopping it exactly next to Legolas' neck. A tiny trickle of red blood ran down the blade.

"Now, aren't you lucky I practice every day?" smirked the older prince.

Legolas didn't make a sound. The only movement he made was as he swallowed and his throat moved ever so slightly.

Hallataulë smirked and put his blade away, pausing only to wipe the small droplet of red away with a cloth. Throwing the rag at his younger sibling, he turned and began to walk away. "You can keep that as a memento to keep your mouth closed next time."

Legolas looked at the red on the fabric. "You're mad, aren't you?"

Hallataulë didn't look back. "Last time I looked, I was sane as I could be, what with living in _this_ family-"

"You know what I mean." interrupted Legolas flatly. Hallataulë stopped and looked back over his shoulder. Legolas still hadn't moved. The older Elf sighed and retraced his steps, returning to the younger one's side.

"Look..." he began softly. "Sorry if I scared you."

Legolas sneered. "Scared me? I wasn't scared, I was-" He stopped as he caught the look Hallataulë gave him. "I wasn't!"

Hallataulë laughed. "Right, _of course_ you weren't..." He clapped his brother on the back and they started walking.

"But seriously," he said after they'd strolled a short way. "You have to stop brushing people off like that when they're giving you advice. You're so stubborn, Legolas – one of these days, you'll regret it!"

Legolas grinned. "And when that day comes, I'll marry a Dwarf..."

Hallataulë pulled a face as though considering the comment seriously. "You realise you'd probably give Ada a heart attack?"

Legolas shrugged. "It could be interesting." He grinned again as his older brother hit his arm, laughing.

"I'll tell him you said that!"

A voice from up the hill on their right interrupted their conversation. "Legolas!"

Legolas stopped in his tracks. He knew who that was. Looking up, he saw exactly whom he expected to see; a tall pale Elf with a thin face and dark brown hair. This Elf stood atop the hill, waving slowly.

"Ah... hello Miarthan." Legolas smiled as Miarthan quickly descended to meet him.

Miarthan was actually the same age as Hallataulë but always talked to Legolas. Hallataulë was quite glad that at least someone who wasn't an inhabitant of Rivendell had befriended his brother, although Miarthan was really _his_ friend over Legolas.

"Are you coming to the archery field today?" asked Miarthan. He waited for a moment for a reply, but before Legolas could reply, Miarthan frowned. "What happened to your neck?"

Legolas fingers flew to the small cut on his throat. "Oh, t-this?" he said quickly. "Just an accident while sparring." He smiled quickly. Miarthan seemed to accept the excuse, so Legolas continued. "I'll come now if you want. Hal, you don't mind, do you?"

Hallataulë shook his head. "I don't mind... don't know about Ama though..."

Legolas stood thoughtfully for a moment. "Hey Hal, what do you think she'd do if you said I died choking on some beautiful young maiden's kiss?"

"She'd gag at the soppiness then proceed to throttle me and blame me for the entire sordid episode," replied Hallataulë. "Though I must admit, it's certainly one of your more... _imaginative_ stories."

Legolas laughed. "Thanks!" He waved as he walked off. "I'll see you at dinner!"

"If I'm still alive..." grumbled Hallataulë...

----

"So, you were cut in sparring, am I correct?" asked Miarthan quizzically. He leaned on his bow casually as he watched Legolas take aim.

"Mmmm-hmm," was the only answer Legolas gave as he focused on the target. He drew back the string until it was taught.

"I see..."

The arrow flew straight and true, smacking the target with a dull thud. Legolas grinned. "Beat that."

Miarthan shrugged. "I'll try..." Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he notched it to his bow. "I think he's much too rough with you sometimes."

Legolas looked at his feet. "Don't treat me like a child, Miarthan."

"I'm not," replied Miarthan. "I'm only saying..."

Legolas happened to look up and saw the arrow that the other Elf had strung. "Hey! What kind of arrow is that?" He was referring to the strange tip, ridged on the edges, and with brown and blue fletchings at the end.

"Oh, this? It's a new type." Miarthan removed it from the string and handed it to Legolas. The younger Elf looked at it carefully.

"My cousin makes weapons," said Miarthan matter-of-factly. "He made this one for me specially. The only one in the entire kingdom!"

Legolas was spell-bound. Running his finger along the fletchings, he then inspected the unusual and exotic-looking tip. He touched it lightly with his finger... and hissed as the razor sharp metal cut his finger.

"Ah..." said Miarthan knowingly. "Two cuts now. Not having much luck today, are we Legolas?" He gave Legolas a lingering look which made the Elven prince slightly nervous; even though he'd know Miarthan for so long, some things the Elf did still made him wonder...

"No. I guess I'm not."

----

"I'm ba-aack..." said Hallataulë, smiling as he came through the door. Sólia was on him in an instant.

"Where is he!" she asked quickly.

"I believe his words were; 'he choked on a maiden' or something to that effect-"

"ON A WHAT!"

Thranduil was still staring at his papers. "You'd better answer her properly ion-nin; Umbar hath no fury like a female scorned, as they say."

Hallataulë sighed. "Alright! I'll come clean... he's practising archery with Miarthan. Alright?"

The Queen nodded. "Well, at least I know he's safe."

Meanwhile, Thranduil had taken an especial interest in one of the reports. His brow furrowed as he read it more closely.

Sólia huffed. "What a father you are! There's our youngest son, out at this time of day, before breakfast, and all you can do is sit there and read your morning reports!"

"Well melath-nin," replied Thranduil, suddenly sounding tired. "I'm afraid this is quite an issue."

Hallataulë looked puzzled as he pulled his chair out from under the table. "What does that mean?"

Thranduil looked up from the paper and sighed. Sólia sat down next to him.

"What's wrong?"

Thranduil sat back on his chair and took a moment to begin, wondering where he should start. "This report here. My advisors have told me they have reason to believe that someone within the palace is plotting something against me, and they think they might do it through the people closest to me. The problem is, they can't think who it might be."

The rest of the Royal Family tried to take in the news, shock evident upon their faces.

"What are we supposed to do? Are we just going to sit here!" said Hallataulë angrily.

Thranduil shushed him with a quick raise of his hand. "I hope not. It's one thing to threaten me; it's another to threaten my family."

"We'd better let Legolas know right away," said Sólia, concerned.

"I agree," said Thranduil. "From now on, I want everyone on their guard..."

----

"I cannot _believe_ you've got me drinking at _midday_..." said Legolas, laughing. He sipped at the wine in his glass again as Miarthan inspected a new barrel.

"Well, the early bird catches the worm," replied the older Elf. "And what a worm... this stuff is new!"

"Really?" said Legolas, sitting up straight. "Let's try a bit..."

"Won't your father be slightly annoyed if you firstly drink his new wine and secondly come home drunk?"

Legolas shrugged. To be perfectly honest, he was already slightly gone now, so one more glass wouldn't hurt. "Ah well..."

Miarthan laughed and turned his back to Legolas as he filled the glasses up with the new dark red wine.

Legolas put his feet up onto another barrel. "You know Miarthan, I've been thinking..."

"That's rare for you..."

Legolas scowled. "As I was _saying_... I've been thinking; maybe I should spend more time in Mirkwood. At home. Here."

"Yes Legolas, I know here is home, you don't need to tell me," quipped Miarthan.

"I don't need to go to Rivendell..."

Miarthan frowned as he handed Legolas the glass. "I thought your friend lived their? You know... the human."

Legolas' hand stopped abruptly just as he was about to touch the glass to his lips. He glared at the brown haired Elf and sat up straight, pulling his feet down from the barrel with a loud clunk.

"_Don't talk to me about him_."

Miarthan raised his hand in defence. "I apologise..." He pondered on this new turn of events as Legolas relaxed again. "A touchy subject then?"

Legolas shook his head. "I..." He paused, thinking sadly. "I just can't believe he just up and left. He left Arwen; poor thing. She was distraught. The twins were shocked, and as for me... well, he didn't even say goodbye to me, his 'best friend'. That shows just how much he cared about us all."

Miarthan shifted closer, staring Legolas in the eyes. "Sounds to me like you're a little bitter..."

"Bitter!" exclaimed Legolas. "Bah! I... I _hate_ him! I hate him in the way you can only hate someone you once cared about."

Miarthan exhaled slowly. "Well..." He took Legolas' wrist and raised the Elf's hand up a little. "You sound like you need a drink. Go on..."

Legolas looked at the wine apprehensively. "It's very dark. _Very _dark..."

Miarthan shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it's a new make, isn't it? Go on..." He stared into Legolas' eyes again. "Just try it."

Legolas looked at the wine doubtfully for a moment, before raising the glass. "Well, here's to _him_, whatever he might be doing. If this wine is sickening... well, that's all the more fitting then, isn't it?"

Miarthan watched closely as Legolas drank the dark liquid.

"Well? What is it like?"

Legolas shuddered. "I knew it; it's disgusting!" He pulled a face. "I wouldn't even give that to an Orc!"

Miarthan laughed. "That bad, eh? Then I hope you won't mind it I miss this opportunity?" He poured the wine down the small drain in the stone floor.

Legolas laughed. "I think you have the right idea..."

----

It was late evening before Legolas went back to the Inner Palace, the area of Mirkwood's Royal House where only the Royal Family, Chief Advisors and special guests could enter.

He was wandering down the Hall of Memories, a grand corridor where large tapestries hung depicting Mirkwood's history. Many of the Advisor's chambers were along here. As he walked, a door opened. Recognising the Advisor, Legolas smiled.

"Good Evening, Oersen," he said politely. Oersen was a wise She-Elf, about ages with his mother, and used to tutor him when he was very young. Therefore, she commanded the utmost respect.

"Good Evening Prince," she said warmly. The air of an idea suddenly appeared on her face, and she cleared her throat. "Could I ask of your assistance with something?"

Legolas nodded. "Of course."

He followed her into the chamber. On the writing desk, parchment was scattered in various piles of untidiness.

"I trust you remember that substance your father had one of the healers look into?" Oersen asked matter-of-factly.

"I think so... I'm not sure," he replied truthfully.

She smiled. "It matters not. I simply need some help in using it. Apparently it's wonderfully sticky and is an excellent substitute for wax when sealing letters."

"Oh." Legolas tried to look interested, but he truly wasn't. In fact, he was feeling strangely tired, but he simply put it down to being awake so early looking for Louvel.

"I was wondering if you could take this one to your father. I would deliver it myself but I simply must see the other Advisors on an important matter." She handed him the letter, sealed with the new substance. A little got on his fingers, but he wiped it discreetly on his tunic. He'd forgotten however about the cut on his finger, not realising when a little seeped into the tiny wound.

'Thank goodness!' thought Legolas. 'I thought she'd have me here for ages-'

"And then if you could find the evening report in that pile over there."

Legolas sighed inside. 'I knew it was too good to be true...'

----

"Well, look who's back from his wanderings! Welcome to dinner little brother! Well, what was dinner, only you're about an hour late..."

Legolas slumped down into his chair. "Shut up Hal..."

Sólia passed her youngest a plate. "Don't worry dear; I saved you some. Hal tried to take it, but mothers always know..." Legolas stared at the food on the plate, poking it with his fork.

"What's wrong Legolas?" asked Thranduil.

Legolas pushed the plate away. "I guess I'm just not very hungry..."

Sólia frowned. "Is everything alright?"

Legolas nodded. "I think... I think I'll turn in for the night." He rose from his seat. As he began to walk, he noticed how light-headed he felt.

"See you in the morning, alright?" said Thranduil. Legolas only nodded, before leaving for the sanctuary of his bedroom.

"Goodnight..."

Little did any of them know that this was merely the beginning of a very frightful next few days...

**Tee hee hee... :-) Well, at least I'LL know what happens next... please R&R! It'd make my day if you do:-) And don't forget your detective work... what do _you_ think is happening? ;-)**

**Until next time... **


	2. Breathless

**Hmmm...**** I sort of get the feeling you all didn't like the ending of that last chapter too much... ja****? Lol!**

**Mellaithwen****; Lol! Well, that was a pretty surreal review there mellon-nin...**

**YamiTai****; Lol! Thank you!**

**Fawkes2005****; Thank you:-) I'm glad you're glad, lol!**

**Alexandrite****; It could be! You'll have to wait and see!**

**Kitty****; Don't worry if you couldn't figure it out; you're not supposed to yet! ;-) As it stands at the moment, the villain could be _anyone_. Lol, I'm glad it made you laugh; it's what I set out to do! Thank you for reading!**

**kel****; ;-)**

**Lady Anne H.****; Hmmm, you've been thinking about this a lot, eh?**** ;-) Well, keep up the guesswork, that's all I can say! Thanks for catching that typo for me; I had a pretty bad chapter there for typos. I'm normally very good at catching them myself.**

**Stoneage Woman****; Lol, okey dokey:-) Thank you!**

**Faerlain****; Yup, another one! I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**Aldaya**** of fantasy****; He he... I hope you were joking...**

**TO EVERYONE READING:**

**Apologies for the appalling number of typos last chapter. I'd especially like to mention that when Thranduil talks about "Umbar hath no fury..." it was SUPPOSED to be Udún. My bad! I'll fix them when I'm able to...**

.: Chapter Two :.

Hallataulë opened the door to the bedroom that Legolas and he had shared since they were young Elflings. The room was dark inside, with no light coming through the large window on the ceiling. Only a flickering flame atop a stumpy candle on the side table gave the older prince any light at all to pick his way through the dark bedroom.

Over the other side of the room, what appeared to be a bundle of blankets lay on the bed. Hallataulë however knew that it was Legolas; the younger Elf had a bad habit of cocooning himself in the quilt.

"Legolas?" he whispered softly. "Are you awake?"

"Hmmm?" A barely audible mumble came from the blankets. Hallataulë wandered over slowly and shook his brother's shoulder. There was a groan and Legolas rolled over and peered at the other Elf from under the relative security of the blankets.

"Are you hungry? You didn't eat any dinner..." asked Hallataulë, concerned. Legolas mumbled something again, but it was too muffled for Hallataulë to hear. "Honestly," he said, smiling and kneeling down. "Pull that blanket down from around your head, I can't hear a word you're sayi-"

He stopped abruptly as he pulled the cover off of Legolas slightly.

"Valar Legolas, you look awful!"

It was true; Legolas' face was paler than normal and his eyes puffy. A slight sheen of sweat covered his face and his gaze was slightly glazed over.

Hallataulë started to rise. "I'm going to get Ada, he'll-"

"No," came a small and pitiful sounding voice.

Silence passed between the two Elves as one stared from the bed and the other simply stared back.

"I'll be ok Hal," said Legolas quietly. "Honest. I just... need some sleep..."

Hallataulë looked at him with concern. "I really don't think you're alright. Are you totally sure you want to just leave it?"

Legolas nodded. "Please Hal, I... I'm just really tired." He groaned before sighing. "Please don't get Ada. He'll only fuss... and then... I'll never get any sleep..."

Hallataulë grappled with his conscience. Half of him told him to ignore Legolas and get Thranduil as this was obviously very serious; after all, Elves simply did not get sick. Then again, Legolas was adamant he'd be ok after some sleep, and as though to back up the other argument as well as the first (and he thought this with a wry grin), Elves simply did not get sick.

He finally admitted defeat. "Alright Legolas. I'll let you sleep for now. But you have to promise me, if you start to feel worse in any way, anything at all, you wake me up and tell me. Agreed?"

Legolas nodded slowly.

"You promise?" added Hallataulë, just for good measure.

"I promise..." whispered Legolas.

Hallataulë shook his head and rolled his eyes. "What were you _doing_ today?" He laughed. "You weren't _really_ chasing maidens, were you?"

Legolas grinned; it wasn't as cheeky as usual, but the sparkle in his eyes was still there.

"I just stayed with Miarthan... most of the day. Don't tell Ada... but I drunk some of his new wine... it was disgusting... and then on my way back I was cornered by Oersen... she got me to sort out her reports..."

Hallataulë laughed. "I bet you loved _that_..."

Legolas laughed a little. "Oh _yes_... and then I got that wax... all over me... didn't help that I cut my finger earlier..." He yawned and blinked tiredly.

"Ok you, enough chatter," said Hallataulë. He pulled the blanket up to his brother's chin again. "Get some sleep. You can tell me all about your escapades in the morning..."

----

Pitch black darkness was what greeted him as his eyes suddenly snapped open. For a moment he didn't understand why he had woken, until he felt it. His chest felt like it was being gripped by an iron fist, the wielder gradually increasing the pressure with agonizing lethargy.

Legolas quickly rolled out of bed, landing on the floor in a heap. His head was swimming and it was with a spike of dread he suddenly realised that he could hardly breathe. Still grasping the blankets around him like a cloak with one hand, the Elf crawled on his knees over to the other bed. Gulping air like mad, Legolas found himself wondering when the room had gotten so big; why did the other bed seem so far away? It felt like hours before he finally got there, but in truth it was only seconds.

"H-Hal!" he gasped. He pulled himself up onto his knees with all his strength. "Hal! H-help!" He grasped the bedclothes tightly in one hand and clutched at his aching chest with the other.

Hallataulë woke to see his younger brother with his eyes screwed shut, desperately trying to breathe. "Legolas!"

Quickly throwing the quilt off of himself, Hallataulë hastily got out of bed. He kneeled down in front of Legolas and tried to get the younger Elf to look at him. He tried to remember what Legolas used to do for him when they were younger, when he'd had panic attacks.

"Legolas..." he said. "Look at me, come on." He caught Legolas' gaze and held it. "Don't look away, just calm down, ok? Just keep looking at me." Legolas' breathing was still ragged, but it seemed to be getting easier. The old tactic was working. "That's right. Just stay calm and watch me..."

It seemed for a moment that things were going to calm down. For a brief few seconds, Legolas seemed to be able to breathe a little better.

But it wasn't to last.

Something happened in his chest again. The grip on his lungs had seemed to ease a little, and Legolas was just beginning to think the ordeal might just be over, when suddenly it returned, worse this time. It almost felt as though his lungs had burst...

Hallataulë caught the younger Elf as he slumped forwards. He panicked as he saw Legolas' wide eyes, full of a wild desperate fear. He was shaking awfully, uncontrollable tremors running through his body.

"ADA!" shouted Hallataulë. He held his younger brother close to him, and in doing so he felt Legolas' heart hammering in his chest.

Legolas couldn't tell what was really going on. Everything around him was spinning too fast for him to focus; the colours were all wrong. Everything was wrong; even him. There was something terribly wrong with him and what frightened him the most was that he had no idea what.

He heard someone screaming. He could feel someone holding him tightly, a distant link back to a normal place and time. He could see shapes and figures before his eyes; he just couldn't tell if they were real or simply figments of his mind which was currently trying to cope with the sudden fever that was setting into his shocked body.

Hallataulë had no idea how to clam Legolas down; the younger Elf's breath was gasping and shallow; he seemed completely breathless. The elder Prince tried to hold Legolas still as he started to thrash wildly in his grasp.

"ADA!" he screamed again. He cared not if he woke the entire kingdom with his hollering – Legolas needed help _right now_.

And then it stopped. Legolas suddenly went limp and lay still in Hallataulë's arms, eyes closed, not making a sound. The older prince feared the worst and pressed his fingers against the side of Legolas' throat.

Luckily, there was still a pulse; somewhat erratic, but still there, and thankfully still fairly strong.

The door flew open with a loud bang and Thranduil and Sólia ran in. The Queen stopped dead as she caught sight of her youngest.

"_Legolas_!" She flew to his side, not even knowing what to do. It was simply a motherly instinct, a wild fear that she couldn't shake at all. "What happened! Hal, what happened!"

Hallataulë shook his head, a little dazed. "I don't know..."

Thranduil ran his hand across Legolas' forehead and found it to be somewhat warm. He leaned back and sighed.

"I knew it..."

----

The door to the healing room opened slowly and all eyes in the room looked up. Previously, the tension and silence between the Royals had been almost unbearable as no news about the youngest member of their family came from the other side of the door.

"Well Falasan? What is it?" demanded Thranduil from the head healer. The brown haired Elf looked at his King and then at his Queen who waited behind. He wondered how exactly to break the news...

"It's a poison; a rare one," began Falasan. He paused, guilt gnawing at his being as the Queen sobbed and the King ran a hand through his hair, a look of rage and despair on his face. He debated whether to carry on, but the professional in him won out.

"The name of it is pryalin; a beautiful sounding name for something so dangerous. The first symptoms are the most dramatic – sometimes they result in death, more often they don't. Legolas has already been through these; the first is tiredness and loss of appetite, then a few hours later difficulty with breathing and seizures. However, people often wonder what's worst, these or what comes afterwards."

Thranduil looked at him darkly. "And what would that be?" he asked slowly.

"A fever. It begins fairly low, just a slight temperature, but as the days pass it gradually increases until at last the victim's body overheats and they die."

The silence was unbelievable. Nobody wanted to say anything. They'd all known that this was more than serious, but the concept that Legolas might _die_... that had never occurred to them at all.

"Is there nothing anyone can do?" whispered Sólia quietly.

"There is a cure," said Falasan. "But it's been so long that this poison has been used for anything that none of the healers, including myself, can remember it. Rest assured though, we're doing everything we can to find out."

Hallataulë had listened to the entire conversation between his parents and the healer from a dark corner of the room. He'd not really been taking it in though; what was weighing on his mind was who had done this.

Legolas was with Miarthan most of the day, apart from when he was walking home and was with Oersen for a little while. That was all he knew; there could be more, but he'd cut Legolas off before he could finish. His mind pulled up so many thoughts about what might have happened... had Miarthan seen anything? Had Oersen? Perhaps that wine was the cause, or the wax? Maybe even just the cut on Legolas' finger... who knew?

He rose silently from his chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you going!" yelled Thranduil. He didn't mean to shout, but stress and confusion had driven him to the end of his tether.

"I just need some air," replied Hallataulë quietly. The door opened silently and he stepped out into the corridor.

Home suddenly seemed so cold... the corridor was bathed in a ghostly blue light as the pale moon shone weakly through the skylights above, and there was utter silence. There was no-one else in the corridor.

Or so he thought.

"Is Legolas alright?"

Hallataulë spun round to see Miarthan standing behind him, leaning against a pillar. It was quite a shock; the prince had been sure he was alone...

"Well... they say he is. For now anyway," he replied tiredly. Miarthan looked at him with sadness in his eyes.

"It's bad then?"

Hallataulë nodded slowly. He was surprising himself; he'd not expected to be so calm when it came to telling someone what was happening. Then again, the idea that Legolas could be dying hadn't really settled in even for himself yet.

Miarthan approached slowly. Once he was close, he placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. "I want to help."

"With what?"

"Well, looking for whoever did this of course!" replied Miarthan matter-of-factly. Hallataulë blinked; he hadn't even thought about actually seeking out and finding the culprit yet, only about who it might have been.

"But-" he started.

"No!" interrupted Miarthan quickly. "No buts!" He paused as he calmed slightly. When he spoke again it was much softer. "Hal, think about this. Legolas might die because of this person's or people's selfishness. But if we start looking for them now, we might catch the poisoner... before he, or she, becomes a _murderer_..."

----

Back inside the healing room, a mother's heart was breaking.

"I want to see him."

Sólia wrung her hands and stared with tear filled eyes at the head healer Falasan. It was a demand no person with a heart could refuse. The Elf nodded and opened the door for his Queen. She rushed in, stopping dead as she saw her youngest child lying lifeless.

Legolas' eyes were still closed and his blonde hair spilled out over the pillow, framing a once cheerful face which was now pale. One hand lay across his chest, which rose and fell slowly as he breathed.

The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Sólia pressed her fingers, curled under into a fist, to her lips as despair and that sense of simply not knowing settled in and showed no signs of leaving at any time soon...

**Valar this chapter was hard to write! Up until the point when Legolas fell unconscious my fingers were flying but the second Thranduil and Sólia stepped in the room it was like, 'Blip! Brain Temporarily Offline!' Anyone else ever had that? -sigh- Ah well. The unbelievable number of Mary Sues spurred me on to continue writing. There's a point when it just becomes a stupid amount... and I bet there's a few of you out there who agree with me, right? –double sigh-**

**Oh, also... someone asked me about the skylights. I believe their question was: "Why whenever you mention rooms in Mirkwood do they never have windows but always windows in the ceiling or skylights?" Well, the answer to that is this. Mirkwood is underground, so I believe that they have large windows in the ceiling to let light in. I'll draw a picture of Legolas and Hal's room and post it soon so you can see what I mean. ;-)**

**Till next time!**


	3. Discovery

**I.** **Am SO. Sorry! T-T I just couldn't write for six months! I don't know why – that's quite possibly the WORST bout of writer's block I've ever gone through! But you'll all be pleased to know, I CAN WRITE AGAIN:D**

**It's very strange though - I was only able to write this after my first GCSE exam, which was on Monday - an exam which I'd been preparing since before Christmas... I wonder if that had something to do with it?**

**I hope everyone who is reading is well; grab some popcorn and sit comfortably – it's...**

.: Chapter Three :.

The night passed painfully slowly, but thankfully without incident. Legolas had remained unconscious all the night, his parents by his side. As dawn had broken, there had been a brief collective drawing of breath as the young Prince stirred, but it was nothing. Falasan had said it had been a good sign though, that he might wake up soon. If that happened, they could figure out where to go from there.

By mid morning, the news had spread around all of Mirkwood. It was difficult to keep such things secret in such a close-knit community, especially when it involved the Royal Family. Of course, this also meant that rumours were in circulation too.

Hallataulë and Miarthan were walking to the library. The older prince had wanted to stay with Legolas, but on trying to sit with his family had felt very awkward. He didn't like seeing Legolas that way, and he could feel the tension between his parents simmering just underneath the surface. He had to get out. So instead, he was now channelling his energy into finding out what the elusive cure was.

The corridors were longer than he remembered – the ceiling seemed much lower, making the journey a claustrophobic one. Heat burned the back of his neck and forced a queasy feeling into the pit of his stomach, and yet Hallataulë had no reason to feel this way, except for worry. He wondered how he'd allowed this to happen, and guilt simply made him feel worse.

Eyes to the floor, he carried on walking, never looking up. The patterns in the stone floor twirled and broke apart, going their separate ways before melding back together as one. He felt physically sick.

Such was the distraction that Legolas' predicament was causing him, Hallataulë didn't realise that the vast length of the corridor had been crossed, and it was only Miarthan's hand on his arm that stopped him.

"Hal? We're here already," said the dark haired Elf, looking at him with concern. Hallataulë looked at him absently.

"Oh..." he said slowly. "We are, aren't we?"

The heavy door swung open, and they walked into the library, with its great shelves heaving with dusty tomes, all of which shared leather bindings of various dull colours and a strange musty smell. Miarthan looked about the massive room and wrinkled his nose.

"So, where do we start?"

----

Legolas stirred in the unnatural sleep he had sunken into. He could feel his pyjamas and the sheets of the bed sticking to his skin despite the surreal floating feeling he was encountering. He could hear every voice in the room clear as a bell as they spoke about him, but never directly _to_ him.

_Well Falasan? _

Falasan... he was the head healer. So that must mean he was in one of the healing rooms. What got to him however was that he couldn't remember how or why he'd gotten here, and why it seemed that, no matter how hard he tried, his eyes just wouldn't open.

_What is it?_

It dawned on him that it was his father speaking. He could help him – he could get him out of this place! Legolas tried to yell. Not a sound. He tried to say something. Again, nothing.

He couldn't even whisper.

What was wrong with him?

_It's a poison; a rare one..._

'What?' he thought. Poison? Was that why he was here? Had he been poisoned?

His mind suddenly propelled into panicked overdrive, trying to remember what had happened to him in a futile attempt to figure out what was wrong. So much so in fact, that he missed all but the last sentence of the rest of the conversation.

_The victim's body overheats and they die..._

He didn't want to die! He tried to shout again, tried to kick and scream and get out of this dark place – this abyss he was in where he couldn't open his eyes, or speak, or move. But the only thing that seemed awake was his mind. His body simply didn't feel like his own any more.

And then he heard his mother crying.

'Ama?'

But no words came out.

'Ama! _Ama_! Help!' he thought desperately. '_H-help me!_'

The cruelty of the poison wouldn't even let his tears fall.

----

Hours passed. Gradually, the table at which they sat filled up with stacks of books, groaning quietly under their weight. Hallataulë added yet another to the growing pile of books which held no answers at all.

He sighed and placed his head in his hands. This was becoming a fruitless task.

The entire time his mind had been repeating the things which had happened which could have possibly poisoned his brother, and the people. He couldn't believe that Oersen would have done it... she'd known Legolas since he was a young Elfling, and had been friends with their mother as well. Surely she wouldn't?

The only other person he could think of was, and he hated to say this, Miarthan. But it _couldn't_ be him, not when he was helping so much. Not when he was Legolas' friend. It hurt to think that after all the fuss over Estel that perhaps yet another person that Legolas had called a friend would cause him pain; this time physical rather than emotional.

Estel... now there was someone he'd not heard from for a good while now. He wasn't clear on the circumstances around Legolas' falling out with him, but it seemed to be something to do with the fact that the human had simply up and left one afternoon, not even saying goodbye to his friends or the family that had raised him for twenty years. Hallataulë was somewhat suspicious of this – Estel didn't seem the type to do something like that on purpose – but he'd written to Elladan and Elrohir who simply avoided the subject and discussed other things, and whenever he'd tried to talk to Legolas about it, the younger Elf's eyes simply went cold and he refused to say anything more.

He hoped beyond all hope that it wasn't Miarthan. He wasn't sure how Legolas would handle a second betrayal of trust in such a short time.

And besides, what was he supposed to say? '_Oh, by the way Miarthan, thanks for your help – just thought I'd better tell you that you're one of the prime suspects in all of this.'_ No; not only was it stupid, it would also cause even more problems that he had to deal with already.

And so, once again, he could draw no strong conclusions; only assumptions.

"Any luck?"

Miarthan dumped another large pile of books onto the table and flopped into his chair. "Phew! That took some work..."

Hallataulë looked at Miarthan closely, trying to see some sort of hint of deception. Miarthan frowned.

"Something wrong Hal?" he asked, voice low, an intense questioning look in his eyes.

Hallataulë broke his gaze and returned to the book. "No. Nothing that you don't know already."

A long drawn out silence heralded an awkward moment as they both went back to reading the books they had pulled from the shelves. It was late afternoon now, the sun beginning to set beyond the mountains, and still they searched the masses of books in the hope of finding an answer.

"He'll be alright. You know that, don't you?" said Miarthan quietly. His eyes flitted up so they now looked over the top of the book. They were icy, with a hint of sadness in their depths.

Hallataulë looked at him. He said nothing.

Miarthan shrugged. "After all, he always is," he said before returning to his book.

----

Sólia was sitting by Legolas' bed, holding his hand, stroking the back of his hand lightly with her thumb. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she was still holding strong, if only for the fact that he could wake up at any moment. She held onto that hope like a snowdrop held onto its petals through a spring storm; with steadfast determination and courage.

Thranduil looked in on her from the doorway, the frame of which he was leaning against. He felt so very tired – this had been one of the worst days of his life, riding up there with the day he'd thought his wife might die giving birth to their youngest, or the few months when their eldest had been missing.

He walked slowly across the room to the window, one of the few in Mirkwood that was set in the actual wall, and stared out at the stars.

'Why them?' he thought. 'Valar, why do you take it out on my family? What have they done?' He gripped the window frame until his knuckles went white. "Curse you," he hissed almost silently. "All of you..."

----

Hallataulë sighed and threw yet another book onto the desk. The sun had set long ago and the useless search for clues had made him irritable. Grabbing another book from the unread pile, he flung it open.

Unfortunately, some of the delicate pages of the ancient book fell from its spine and spilled onto the floor, his rough handling of the tome breaking their hold. He grumbled and bent down to retrieve them.

Miarthan, on seeing the pages fall, stooped down to help Hallataulë out, picking up various pages and attempting with little luck to sort them into some kind of order. Taking one, he was about to add it to his growing collection when he noticed something written in hasty handwritten script on it in the margin:

_Pryalin – small plant, purple flowers, grows in trees in N. Mirkwood. leaves poison. flower pollen - cure._

"Hal! I've found something!"

**I hope that was alright for you - once again, I apologise for my terrible lateness with updating!**


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